


☆ ★ WANTED ★ ☆ owner of those lucky swimmers ☆

by Anonymous



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Impregnation Kink, Possessive Behavior, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22636774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Bell, I wanna have a baby.”Bellamy’s eyes go wide and he forgets how to breathe for a minute. “Excuse me? And you need me for what exactly?”“Oh, don’t be such a baby! I’m not asking you to be the Dad, am I?”He grits his teeth. “You’renot.”-OR, Bellamy is a sperm donor but the catch is that he only believes in "natural" conception. Basically, Clarke wants a baby, and Bellamy gets really into breeding her*
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 45
Kudos: 446
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

“Bell, I need your help with something.”

Bellamy makes an affirming noise in the back of his throat, and glances away from the crossword puzzle he’s been working on for the past hour. It’s only halfway solved but he fears he reached a dead-end nineteen minutes ago; he was just too stubborn to give up and park it before Clarke stormed in, interrupting his silent battle. Soon, the paper sits on the table, face down, his pencil placed carefully right on top; this way he can dedicate his full attention to her.

She takes it as a sign. “I wanna have a baby.”

Bellamy’s eyes go wide and he forgets how to breathe for a minute. “Excuse me? And you need me for what exactly?”

“Oh, don’t be such a baby! I’m not asking you to be the Dad, am I?”

He grits his teeth. “You’re _not.”_

Now that she points that out... the thought of anyone fucking a baby into her makes his blood boil with red rage, hot like molten lava.

He abandons his chair, practically jumping to his feet, and crosses the room in three big strides. 

“Then what, Princess? You want me to vet some guys _for you?_ Introduce you to some of my friends from the gym? And _then what?!”_ He is angry. In a minute, he’ll be pissed as hell at himself for letting his emotions take over and show.

Fuck it.

She storms over to him and jabs a finger against his chest. 

“Don’t be such a grump, Bellamy. Jeez. I don’t need you to set me up on dates! Gah, that’s gross. I’m not a prize horse to win!”

He’s working his jaw but he sags in relief.

“Are we cool?” 

He nods but doesn’t say anything.

“I was talking to my doctor about it and given I’m not dating anyone right now who could help me out — and my blood results are excellent — Doctor Winter recommended to get in touch with a sperm bank for potential donors.” She takes a deep breath and keeps talking as Bellamy finds his way back to the seat he abandoned. “So I did, and filled out the papers — blah blah — they are sending over some profiles to look over in a few days. I’d appreciate your help with narrowing them down.”

He is not happy about it. No. He is not happy about some random dude — _God knows, someone like Collins_ — donating. He is not happy about any dude’s seed taking root in her womb.

But. He can put up a straight face for Clarke and be a partner in this; be a good, considerate friend who is looking out for her best interests. Always. He can review some papers with her, even if it pains him inside; and if he has any say in the final delinquent, he’ll make sure he’s a good man.

And then, when the baby is born, he can be the father figure of her baby; help her with changing the diapers, taking care the both of them. He would help her raise her baby. It’s a better option than not to do any of that at all. He would help her raise that child as if they were his own.

***

Clarke arrives with a stack of papers two days later with a bright pink Post-it note on top of the batch. The note reads, DELINQUENTS in her close to illegible block letters.

Despite his sour mood, it makes him smile.

The stack contains, as he learns, ten suitable donors, selected by the clinic based on the qualifying criteria she had been asked to submit.

After an hour and a half, a couple of beers and a pizza with extra cheese, they’ve managed to narrow the list down to five.

Clarke gets a call from work, her boss panicking and begging her to help her out. She’s in no condition to drive but agrees to talk her through it. So she takes the call and moves into the living room from the kitchen table with a sheepish expression on her face. He squeezes her shoulders as a sign of support.

Whilst Clarke is on the phone, he discards of the empty box and the bottles, moves the dirty dishes to the kitchen counter at the sink. By the look of her posture, he has enough time to wipe the floor, too.

He leaves the stack of papers where they left them, the way they left them — the “absolutely not” batch on the windowsill, the rest arranged in a neat line on the kitchen table.

It’s just about his luck that his friend from

college, Nathan Miller decides to drop by at the worst possible time.

He sees the figure on the couch as he sheds his jacket, keeping his voice low.

“Oh, _man._ If you told me you had a date over, I wouldn’t have come over.”

Bellamy offers him an unimpressed look. 

“You and I both know you came unannounced. And you know damn well she is _not_ a date.”

“Hey, Clarke,” Miller nods towards her direction when he sees her catching his eyes.

She smiles and waves a hand back in greeting. She is still on the phone, legs folded under herself as she lets her head tilt back to the back of the couch comfortably and closes her eyes as she listens. She reopens them when she adds something to the conversation.

Bellamy is pulled back to Miller when he feels someone tapping his shoulder.

“I came to have some beer with you and chat. My boyfriend pulls a late shift at the office and I’m bored. But again, if I knew your girl was over —“

Bellamy sighs. There’s no point in arguing with him on this. Miller enjoys it way too much to get a rise out of him. 

“Come on. Have your beer and let’s talk.”

Bellamy grabs the drinks and Miller looks for the bottle opener and some nuts. He mentions his boyfriend, Monty, how much work he does lately and how his odd schedule makes it hard to plan a date before he falls to silence and Bellamy thinks there might be more to the story but he wants to continue when they are settled down with their beers.

As Bellamy turns to hand him the bottle, he finds Miller deep in thought, examining the files of the Top 5.

 _“Hmmm,_ interesting.”

“What is?”

“I’m just ... _mmhmm ..._ got lost in the depth of their deep, rich brown eyes. Or that dark curly hair, _am I right?_ It’s nice to pat those soft curls you know. Or —“ he winks,” something to hold onto when you’re passionately kissing someone you’re _sexually_ attracted to.”

Miller doesn’t stop humming, which gets kind of annoying after a minute.

Bellamy growls at him. “Either spit it or go.”

“Since you’ve been asking... These dudes love reading books. They swim or play football or basketball for a hobby. This four is a teacher, that one is a librarian. Total nerds. I’m pretty sure at least one of them has a sister and/or named their sister after a historical figure, too.”

“Your point being?”

“Dude, she’s looking for a Dad who is a second you, don’t you get it? This baby could be a mini YOU if you pulled your head out of your ass.”

“Fuck off.”

Clarke is apparently off the phone because they hear some shuffling.

Miller smacks a slobbery kiss on his cheek and grabs for the beer. 

“I’m leaving. Thanks for the beer. _Daddy.”_

One of these days, he will block his number. 

But it’s hard to argue — now that Miller has put that bug in his head, he cannot stop thinking about it and wonder. 

Opposites attract each other. 

She’s so tiny, he’s so tall. Fits just right under his arms and into his embrace.

They fight like cats and dogs to date, true. And yet, those fights are constructive, not destructive, challenging each other is the foundation of who they are.

She is Clarke and he is Bellamy. Two peculiar names. Starting with two adjacent letters in the ABC; does that mean they are meant to be?

It would explain why he feels so territorial about her. It’s not just sexual attraction. 

He groans and switches the bottle in his hands for a glass filled with cold water, topped with ice for good measure.

(He is positive his last beer with Miller tipped him from being tipsy to drunk.)

***

It’s a week later when she tilts his world on its axis again.

“So. The clinic called. They ran out of the good stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“The sperm! Bellamy, _the sperm!_ Our stud!! Is!! Gone!!”

His heartbeat rises at the mention of Clarke’s potential baby daddy. His temples are throbbing. He’s trying consciously not to think about the matter at hand, even if it’s somewhere (always) in the back of his mind. It’s agonizing. 

_“Our_ stud??? I don’t remember wanting to have a baby with that dude.”

She scowls at him and grabs for her phone, saying, she will call the clinic once more.

Good. He needs a few splashes of cold water in his face anyway.

*

When she returns, she drops herself on the couch next to him and crosses her arms in front of her. It’s part of an act; he knows her too well.

_“Clarke.”_

“Hmmm?”

“What happened?”

She exhales, long and loud.

“If you wanna know ... I asked them if I could get delinquent number two or three or four... apparently, their genome is premium quality and somehow the other women got a sniff of that, so now I cannot have them.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Bellamy. I know your opinion on this topic; but honestly, you’re not helping. If you wanted to be helpful you’d say _‘I’m sorry, Clarke, I’m sure they’ll get a new donation soon’_ or _‘I’m sorry, Clarke, let’s go out and drown our sorrows. I’ll pay.’_ Or _‘I’m so sorry Clarke, I’m gonna whip it out for you and take one for the team’._ “

Bellamy drops his book and removes his glasses. He takes one, deep, calming breath, God help him, he needs it, before he asks half-jokingly:

“Do you really want my sperm?”

She tries to stay casual. One of the perks of knowing her for so long is knowing —when she shrugs, and obviously avoids all eye contact but juts her jaw out and chews on the insides of her cheeks means — she is actually thinking about it but she doesn’t want to say ‘yes’ just like that yet.

“IF you were offering... I wouldn’t say no. Like, I’m sure you masturbate sometimes? The difference is, I suppose, instead of doing it in the shower, you save the boys in a cup?”

“In a cup,” he says numbly.

She nods, looking hopeful.

This is insane. Even if the idea — of his flesh and blood growing inside her and his baby making her stomach swell or that everyone would know _his lucky swimmers_ put a baby into her — jumbles his insides into knots. And once the idea has taken shape in his mind he cannot shake it off. 

His head pounds, and pounds and pounds, practically screaming at him. Telling him to just open his mouth and get it out.

And for once, he listens to that voice. 

“You know what? I’m not such a huge fan of confined spaces.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “But?”

“I will donate to your cause. _But,_ only if we do this the ‘natural’ way.”

Her lips part. “You mean - -“

“You and I, Princess. You can ride my cock and take what you need.”

Her eyes darken, and her cheeks turn to this pretty deep shade of pink. If she doesn’t slap him — Bellamy is certain — he might just get what he wants. And what he wants is this: slam his cock into her and fuck her good.

“When.”

Despite feeling his heart kicking wildly in his throat, he gives her a half-shrug, playing it nonchalantly. “I have nothing better to do.”

*


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely and enthusiastic comments, it means a lot! Hope you'll like this chapter!

By the time they reach his bed, he is excited out of his skin. His heart is not in his throat anymore, it’s beating in less of a crazy rhythm now; still, he can feel a healthy amount of adrenaline coursing through him. 

He gets to fuck her, and much sooner than he ever dared to imagine himself.

He flips on the lights in his room, letting the door halt half-way, but doesn’t bother to push it all the way shut.

There is no need. It’s just them. 

“Bellamy, wait.” Clarke looks a little bit fidgety to him. If she changed her mind and tells him to stop — he’d be disappointed, of course, his cock even more, but she’s his friend first. 

He watches her carefully, trying not to spook her by whatever stupid emotion sits on his face. “This won’t make things awkward between us. Right?”

He exhales slowly before he takes a breath, slow, and answers honestly.

“Why would it?”

 _“Because_ — you’ll see me naked and I will see you naked, and that’s —“

“— Clarke,” he stops her with a hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze before letting his arm drop. “If it makes you feel better we can kill the lights. But — I’d really rather see what I’m doing. It’s just sex,” he whispers,” right?” 

She nods, her face tainted with an expression he cannot decipher. It must be the nerves. He is nervous, too. But in a good way.

“I won’t stop being your friend and won’t avoid your calls or anything like that just because I — _we,_ make a baby together.”

_Their baby. His seed._

A thrill runs down his spine.

“Okay,“ she bobs her head in agreement. “Do we have to have the safe sex talk?”

He laughs, and she smacks the back of her hands against his chest. 

“Ass,” she says, lips pursed into a pout. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, not even attempting to contain his amusement.” I just want to make sure you know how babies are made.”

“Don’t. Laugh. I just wanted to say... that I’m clean. You haven’t had a girlfriend in a while but I’m also not keeping track of your sexcapades —“

The last person he hooked up with was Bree, about a month and a half ago. He always used a condom with her and, fortunately for him, he had himself tested not long after. He has himself tested every year.

“I’m clean, don’t worry.”

“I‘m not worried,” she mumbles, voice oozing a bit of defiance.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now — do you want _me_ to undress you or?

“We can do it together.”

He nods in silence, and taking a deep breath he removes his white t-shirt. She lifts hers over her head, too, letting her golden hair cascading down her shoulders, leaving her in her bra. He watches her with bated breath as her curls bounce softly; some time passes until they settle. Their socks and pants and underwear follow. 

_“Ugh._ This is weird,” she says looking down at herself. She scowls but soon the scowl is gone and her features even out and she reaches behind her back, unclasping her bra, too, letting the fabric fall to the heap of clothes already on the floor.

His eyes darken at the sight. Despite having seen her in tiny shorts and low cut tops or flimsy summer dresses over the years — not to mention a bathing suit or a bikini — she is a sight to behold. So regal. So hot. So — beautiful.

He gulps and steps away from his clothes before he unwittingly tangles his feet in anything, causing him to trip in his dazzled condition and hits his head. Or worse.

“Now, do you need any help getting yourself ready?” He casts his eyes downwards, towards her centre. 

His cock is half-hard for a while now, ever since she mentioned ‘to whip it out and take one for the team’; and honestly, her naked body in front of him will get him fully erect soon. They are already naked, he had agreed to fuck her, he is past feeling any shame. If he has to tug on his cock a couple of times to make him absolutely ready for action — fully aware that all the while she might be watching him touching himself — be it.

Her eyes are on him, boring into his when a hand slides down, pressed close to her stomach. His eyes are on her face but he can see from the corner of his eyes as she touches herself; rubbing a few circles around — what he knows is — her clit, and slides those fingers along her slit up and down. A shaky breath leaves his mouth as his lips part, but he keeps holding her gaze. Her fingers come back shiny. Inwardly, Bellamy growls. 

Soon. Soon, he’ll get a taste.

“I think I’m good.”

He swallows and brings himself in front of her in a big step, palms rubbing her shoulders, down her biceps to her elbows, then all the way back up, relaxing her muscles.

“Kissing okay?”

“Sure.”

He kisses her. Just a quick, dry kiss at first, then a second and a third, before his mouth turns more demanding and he lets his tongue slip between her parted lips as she sighs. He turns their bodies, so her back is to the bed and slowly, taking one measured step at a time, he guides her steps backwards, then down to the bed, making her sit at the edge first. She follows his lead and lets him. When she wriggles her body further up on the mattress, he crawls over her. They move in sync. 

He kisses her deeper, filthier. She kisses him back with equal fervour, tongue exploring his mouth. Her hands press on his back, pulling him closer, her nails bite into his muscles there, which aches pleasantly. It excites him more. He kisses her a few more times before he lets his hands wander and explore her body. She feels so soft and pliant under him.

 _God._ He has fantasized so much about these tits. Under the roughened skin of his palm; or his eager mouth roaming around the firm skin as his hot breath hits her skin, causing goosebumps to rise in its wake. His stubble leaving angry scratch marks behind as he licks and nips and claims them, sucking her hardened nipples into his mouth. As he buries his face between the valley of her breasts and his fingers rub and pluck at each nipple, working them into peaks.

Just like he imagined it, her breasts feel soft and heavy, and warm; they fit perfectly — just right — into his palms.

As he presses down on her, he feels her nipples graze his skin. There’s a small hitch in her breathing, which he loves. He has to invoke more reactions like this out of her, he decides, and as he presses his thumbs down, he teases them into peaks without an effort. She gasps, loud, which makes his cock twitch against her skin, smearing some pre-cum.

He scoots back on his knees allowing him to take a temporary break from kissing her and duck his head down, swirling his tongue around a nipple before spooning it into his mouth. He begins sucking, making sure to pay attention to each one of them. He sucks like a mad man, like his life is dependent on it; a desperate man looking for air. He sucks and sucks until her pants grow heavier under him, and he feels her nails biting into his skin deeper. He repeats the motion on her other nipple.

His dreams were nice, but they didn’t make her body justice; feeling her skin on skin, experiencing the noises she makes and feels her skin erupt in goosebumps all over is way more gratifying.

When she bucks her hips upwards, he grins, satisfied with himself. He hides his smile against her skin, licking the skin, and as the smile fades, he cranes his neck to steal another kiss from her lips. She welcomes his mouth eagerly and he lets her tongue fight his for a while. She kisses like she argues, with so much passion behind it; he should have known.

Whilst their mouths are occupied, he slides a hand further down her body, pausing at her flat belly only, feeling it rise and fall under his palm for a few seconds, before he slides his hand over her curls, stopping at her entrance. Three of his fingers glide over her slit, trying her entrance, sliding against her slick nicely. 

She whimpers.

 _“NOW_ you’re ready.”

He retracts his fingers from her cunt, and grabs her at the hips, rolling them over.

“Come on. Now, you can ride me.”

*

She whines at the loss of contact. Poor thing. 

He runs his palms over the back of her thighs — letting his skin graze slowly, sensually — over her ass, over her lower back, then repeats the motion. She whimpers.

 _“Shhh,_ Princess. That’s not why we’re here now, is it? Come now, show me what you’ve got. Be a good girl for me, and I promise you — I’ll give you a treat later.”

She nods, rising on her knees as she shifts above him, readjusting herself to his body. His hands never stop caressing her skin; not even when her entrance is perfectly aligned above him. He waits with bated breath for her, to just move — yes, finally — and sink down onto him. He is so buzzed; he might be applying a bit of pressure on her lower back, pulling her down, as a sign of encouragement to just lower herself onto his dick already.

She exhales sharply.

Then, she takes a hold of his cock at the base and guides him inside; coating the head with her slick before letting it slip through her folds. Her body swallows his cock torturously slow, but without any difficulty.

“Shit.”

There’s a moment when all that he feels is her heat seeping through and into him, and the weight of her soft ass landing on his thighs. It’s a little overwhelming, considering it is Clarke-fucking-Griffin.

When he recovers, he chuckles. “Shit indeed.” She feels amazing around him. He almost hates himself when he tells her, “Go on, ride me.” _Almost._

She starts moving, hips rolling above and against him in the most erotic way he’s ever seen; the roll of her hips is so captivating, so sexy, he cannot drag his eyes away for quite a while. He is perplexed by the way her hips twist in figure eights; by the way her skin stretches and welts, causing her ribcage to stick out a little more against her flushed skin. Her heavy breasts sway as her hips grind down on him in a rhythm, until it’s almost too much, yet not enough. That seems to snap him out of his trance.

His eyes shift down to where they are joined and — if he thought watching her swaying hips and breasts was erotic, he’s been terribly mistaken. Watching Clarke take his cock, a piece of him, is another sight to behold. The air whooshes out of him at the sight.

“Faster,” he whispers a plea. “I’m sure you can do it faster.”

He doesn’t feel particularly exhausted but his voice feels so ragged and hoarse as if he’s been doing most of the work here and not Clarke. His commanding words or the tone, or maybe the two — combined with the strong grip of his hands on her hips guiding her — are not lost on her; in fact, he happily notes that they have the required effect because she whimpers and increases her tempo.

“Yes, that’s it, Clarke. That’s it. You’re so good to me.”

His raspy voice seems to spur her on more.

“You’re taking my cock so well. That’s it. Up and down... take what you need.”

She comes with his name on her lips, heaving heavily; slumping down on his chest right after her orgasm hits her. Bellamy, wasting no time, wraps an arm around her and he rolls them over again. One hand moves to cover her mouth, stifling her whimpers, as the other pushes a leg onto his shoulder and changing the angle. A few more thrusts and he lets himself go, too, spilling his seed deep into her pussy.

He stays inside her as they both settle, letting his cock soften. When his breathing is back to normal, he lifts his hand off her mouth. 

The last thing he catches is her smile before he crashes on the bed right next to her.

*

“So... Real talk alert.”

“Uh oh.”

“You offered to help me out, didn’t you?”

Right. This is a temporary agreement. The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He was hoping that maybe — maybe the sex — awesome sex like what they just had would make her snap and confess she wants him. He’s shit at reading the signs. 

“I have this app.”

That makes him turn his head to look at her and examine her face more closely. “What app?”

Her hands rise, and as she continues talking, she gestures animatedly in the air in a nondescript pattern.

“Keeping track of my fertile days and whatnot. I’ll spare you the details.”

“Okay?” He twists his brows in confusion. He bought enough pads and Tampax and painkillers to his sister when — well, it had been a long time ago, but anyway, he doesn’t get too flustered — if any — by any of the workings of the female body.

“My fertile days are ending in four days. So — “ she takes a deep breath, lets her hands fall and turns her head to look at him. “If you wanted to help - “

Now they are talking.

His lips twist into a wicked smile. “Four more days of letting you use me?” If Bellamy were smart he’d come on her back or on her stomach (or didn’t come at all whilst she is in ten feet radius) just to drag this out. But he’s not conniving like that. “If you wanna use me, use me. I’m not complaining about having good sex. Good cardio.”

She explodes into giggles, which in turn makes him flash teeth and grin wider, cockier. 

Eventually, her giggles die down and she smacks his chest. “Ha ha. And he’s funny, too.” A few seconds pass before she adds, “As long as you don’t mind.”

If only she knew.

They don’t talk for a while. They don’t have to. The remnants of the sweat have already dried off their skin, nothing really justifies staying in bed pressed together and _this close_ any longer. It’s a comfortable silence.

So comfortable, they even fall asleep for a while. When he wakes it’s because nature calls and he has to use the bathroom; a shower would be nice, too. 

He touches her shoulder and shakes her softly. “Clarke, it’s late.”

She blinks her eyes open a few times before they open fully and her gaze finds him.

“Okay, let me grab my things and I’m out of your hair.” She sounds tired.

 _“No._ It _is_ late. You can stay. Um - you _should_ stay. I can move to the couch if you -“ he’s already in a sitting position, halfway off the bed when she grabs his arm and makes him stop.

“Stay. You’ve seen everything, so what’s the point?” Then, more softly,” Stay.”

“Hmm,” he makes an affirming noise in the back of his throat. And because he cannot help himself he adds,” Probably —you’re gonna need _the best_ part of me in a few hours anyway.” And Bellamy is more than happy to be around and fill her up again. It’s not a hardship really.

She furrows her brows, before she gets the message and mumbles, mostly to herself. “Good cardio.”

“I’ll be back. Just... feel yourself at home. Just.. don’t hog my blanket.”

As she wriggles herself into a more comfortable position, she yawns and pulls the blanket over herself. “No promises.”

*

In the morning, sex starts much slower, sweeter. Once, he saw in a movie a pillow under the hips helps conception, due to elevation of the womb or something, and he tells her as much.

She stares at him with a blank expression.

“What?” he asks dumbly.

“What movies are you watching?”

He huffs out a laugh.” I have you know it wasn’t porn. Or anything like that. Some kind of historical romance/drama. Very artsy.”

Her previously solemn face lights up with a knowing smile which looks almost smug to him. “Ah, I see.”

He gives her an ‘I-cannot-believe-you-are-mocking-me-right-now’ look, which is basically him staring at her with all the might of a teacher in class trying to get the kids to listen.

“Now who’s being an ass? I’m trying to help here, Clarke. What’s there to lose?”

She half-shrugs, her smile has already faded and replaced by her regular soft features. “Guess nothing. I just -- “ she inhales deeply, as if to brace herself for something serious. “I just don’t want to leave your pillows messy. You know — because of the - “

His smile is wicked when he answers, crinkling the skin around the corner of his mouth and his eyes. “I don’t give a damn about the damn pillows.” And with that, he is done talking. He pounces. 

He grabs her by the calves, making her squeak in surprise, and pulls her down, positioning her body under him. She draws her bottom lip under her teeth, a small, coy smile breaking through, before she raises her hips, giving him enough room to move his thickest pillow under her. As he enters her, he is already kissing her, stifling her gasps. 

Once he bottomed out and started moving his hips, they get into a rhythm easily, as if they’ve been doing this for years; accustomed to each other’s bodies like dancing partners of years. He supposes it’s somewhere true. Having known her for years, fighting her just as long, he had plenty of time to get to know her inside and out and recognize each one of her reactions — her looks, or the change in her breathing.

Sex is just a new layer to a different, more intimate side of her. Even if sex with her is only temporary. He grunts. 

His thrusts become erratic too soon. It’s just ... being inside her, without the barrier of a condom, with the very real possibility of making a baby — _their baby_ — with every single snap of his hips is a very potent aphrodisiac. 

He feels himself losing himself when she arches her back and her hands travel to her breasts, cupping them, massaging the globes for him between her fingers; or just pushing them together and mewling softly.

“You’re killing me here,” he grunts, thrusting into her deeper, a little bit more rough, making her gasp. She opens her eyes.

From there on they keep eye contact and it becomes a game of chicken of sorts.

She touches her nipples, and he scowls. He retreats, and she whines but digs into the meat of his ass with her nails, which cuts so deep he growls and trusts back into her to wipe that smug look off her face.

“I don’t think I can hold this for too long,” he grunts, voice taking on a raspy edge too soon. “Wish I could but — you touching yourself? Your pretty tits on display?” he groans, as he slams his hips harder, making the globes in question rise and fall so quickly, jiggling like jelly. “Look at how they jump with every thrust, and ... you’re not helping with ... looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” She pants, her breathing getting irregular, too.

“Like you’re putting up a show for me, and you know it.”

Her hands move down to where they are joined, fingertips feeling around his shaft as it pushes into her. When he retreats, pulling out slightly for the third time, her fingers slide to her clit.

He growls.

“Stop complaining.”

“I’m - NOT,” he growls through gritted teeth, then he swats her fingers away and takes over.

*

Following their morning sex, Clarke practically moves into his room. 

She arrives with a backpack every day, with a change of clothes and toiletries, sometimes with an extra bag of takeout or groceries in her hands, for dinner. She helps with cleaning the table, putting away the dishes. She showers at his place. She goes to bed and wakes up in his bed; they only leave the apartment for work.

Three out of four days he wakes with his hand in her hair, or palm flat on the small of her back; and he loves the feel of her small hand curling around his semi-hard penis in the mornings; lying on her stomach. Her back to him and still sound asleep.

(If he could stop the time, he would.)

***

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Miller drops by after the third day, making him painfully aware of how quickly time goes by.

This time, he sends a text.

_ETA in 10 mins 👊_

He arrives at Bellamy’s doorstep in twelve.

“Yo! I haven’t heard from you in days.”

It’s after 7PM; Clarke is not home yet, so Bellamy decided to get comfortable on the couch and catch up on his reading. The book he started a week ago is still on the page where he left it, thanks to the distraction — more like Hurricane, called Clarke Griffin. Bellamy keeps his eyes on the page a bit longer, absentmindedly humming to himself, also knowing (and noting with a resigned sigh) that he’ll have to skim through the earlier pages (if not start the book over completely) at this point.

“Still alive. Your concern is touching.”

“So... Who’s the lucky winner out of those studs?” Miller asks, pretending to be nonchalant about it as he takes a good look at Bellamy, narrowing his eyes. A long minute passes before he’s cocking an eyebrow at him and soon, he begins to laugh. He is laughing so hard he is practically shaking with tremors. And when he is not shaking, he wiggles like an overgrown snake, stomping his feet against the floor and hitting his palms on his knees. Bellamy closes his eyes, but restrains from dropping the book and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You did it!!! Didn’t you?! Don’t deny it! I can see this — _this this this — glow up_ all around you! You got laid!” He scratches his chin in faux contemplation.” And not just by anyone!”

Bellamy hasn’t abandoned his book yet, he is rock solid in his determination to keep up the pretenses of reading; as such, he only lifts his gaze at Miller for a few seconds, letting the book in his hands drop by an inch before his eyes fall back to the page in front of him. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“Aww, Bellamy, I don’t need the details.” Miller’s voice rings stronger now, and soon, Bellamy feels the dip in the couch as his friend takes the liberty and claims the empty side next to him. “Your face is enough. Crows-feet are gone I see.”

Bellamy closes his eyes again. He already knows there won’t be much reading done anytime soon, not even the page in front of him. With a discrete sigh he lets the book drop to his lap as he faces Miller and mentally prepares himself for the upcoming interrogation.

Miller doesn’t waste any time.

“So, what’s with you?”

“Sorry,” he shrugs with one shoulder, “I’ve been a little busy.”

“Sure, busy. I bet.”

He closes the book and puts it away. “You obviously know what I mean. And before you ask... thanks, I know what I’m doing.” Miller lifts an eyebrow — _‘Do you?’_ — for which, Bellamy nods once, curt. 

“Working up to it.”

They move their chitchat from the living room to the kitchen after a bit to grab some drinks.

Miller only asks for juice because he is driving later. Bellamy opts for a cup of tea.

It’s actually good to have some time outside of his bubble with Clarke or the rotation between work and the gym.

He learns Monty is still busy at work but apparently begged off tonight from his boss so he can have a movie date with his boyfriend. Even if —

“It’s midnight screening,” Miller says. “Now you know what crazy schedule they push on that project. I have to wait till midnight like a genderbent Cinderella, except I’m arriving at that metaphorical ball at midnight and not leaving it.”

Before he knows it, it’s after 9PM. He only knows the time because his microwave makes a single beep every hour. It’s the second time it beeps since Miller arrived; and right on cue for Miller to bring up a certain blonde again.

“But, enough of me. Did you talk to her?”

Bellamy shrugs with one shoulder, out of reflex. “I talk to her every day.” 

Miller punches him in the bicep.

“Ow. Man, what was that for?”

He looks at him with disbelief, eyes stern. “Don’t make me to spell it out.”

When Bellamy doesn’t say anything, he sighs and drags his chair closer, the feet of the furniture screeching loudly against the tiles. “You’re an idiot.”

Bellamy snorts. “So you keep telling me.”

“You _are_ an idiot. Listen to me. This is not just about making a baby, right?”

Well —

The thought of watching her grow, her stomach stretch and swell as their baby grows inside her alone —

It’s enough to make his cock twitch and his heart pound harder against his ribcage. He wants her. Body and soul. He wants to claim her, show the world she belongs to him. What’s a better proof of that than having made a baby together?

“By the stupid look on your face I gather the sex is good?”

Bellamy snaps his eyes to him, lips in a straight line.

 _“Excuse_ me!” Miller rolls his eyes dramatically.” Earth-shattering then.”

He nods, smiling to himself. “You can say that.”

 _“Hallelujah_ — he talks.”

“If you’re being an ass for the sake of being an ass, you can go.”

Miller sighs, shaking his head, he pushes the chair further back, loud, as he stands and begins pacing to make a point.

“I’m not telling you this to hurt you. But, you and I both know she lights up like a Christmas tree when you smile at her. I don’t smile at my friend John Murphy like that. I’d fuck him, sure, if I was single. I still wouldn’t offer to have his babies. Even if — unlike you — he likes to grab a beer with me once in a while outside of his apartment.”

Bellamy scratches the back of his neck, lips contorting as he thinks. Miller does have a point about not being socially available over the past few weeks. He should try better. He should be a better friend.

“Anyway, you managed to get her to sleep with you. _Congrats!_ More than once. _Good job!_ The difficulty you are facing, my friend ... you want to keep doing that. You want to spoon her and make her breakfast. Don’t deny it.”

“I’m already making her breakfast,” Bellamy says with a low tone, absentminded.

“Of course you are,” Miller mutters. “Well, then... You got her to sleep with you, now get her to admit she wants to have your babies.”

Bellamy scoffs. “She IS gonna have my baby!”

“Sure. Keep pretending that’s all I’m getting at here.”

They are interrupted when they hear keys jiggling and scratch against the door, and soon, the lock turns and the apartment door opens. Clarke is rushing through the door a moment later, talking, oblivious, way before she can see _them_ or they can see her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I know I’m late! So late, you don’t have to tell me. But my boss had another meltdown at work - and she caught me just when I was leaving - and then I was dragged into her office for another two hours. Ahhh, I can’t wait for you to tear these clothes off and do —“

She’s pulling a carry-on bag after her, which is bigger than her bag from yesterday but also bigger than any of her bags from any day before.

Millers leans his body closer and lowers his voice so that only Bellamy can hear as he mutters, “Bro, now I’m offended. I have missed out on a lot, haven’t I?” 

At the same time, Clarke recovers, blinking rapidly a few times before she swallows, and greets them. “Oh. _Hey_ — guys.”

Bellamy drops his eyes to the carry-on behind her — for a few prolonged seconds that’s all he can see. It takes him counting to ten in his head to draw his eyes away from the bag, which is big — too big — which can only mean one thing. As if he wasn’t aware already!

He drags his eyes away from the offending object, lifting his gaze up and rake over her.

She is dressed in a soft looking peach blouse and those black suit pants that accentuate the curve of her ass perfectly.

Bellamy presses his lips together, fighting a growl; his cock twitching at the sight of her; overcome with hot, all-consuming want for her. It’s _still_ her fertile day according to that app. 

_“Hello,_ Clarke.” He faintly hears Miller greet her oh-so sweetly. _“How you doin’?”_

Clarke frowns, Bellamy growls, his gaze never leaving her face. “Get out.”

Clarke’s eyes snap to his, silently berating him and asking what is going on.

He turns to Miller, who is eyeing the carry-on now, but when sensing Bellamy watching him, he turns to his friend. Bellamy levels him with a stern gaze so that he understands. “Get out!”

Miller holds his hands up in a placating manner. “On my way. But you better make this up to me, man.”

Miller is out of the door in a matter of seconds. The door slams shut behind him when he feels a hand on his shoulder, tapping him softly, and he sees Clarke glancing up at him with a question in her big blue eyes.

“Bellamy, you don’t have to be so rude to our friend.”

He turns, hand dropping to her waist, gripping her with force, and pulling her into him rather roughly. Let her feel his growing erection.

It seems to work. She sucks in a breath in surprise and he can feel her trembling in his arms. Which in return makes him act more bold.

“It’s still your fertile days, isn’t it?” His voice is dark, with a commanding edge to it, still, he has to fight himself to keep the shaking out of his breathing. 

She nods weakly, face slightly flushed. 

“We have an agreement. And I’m a man of my word. Want my sperm? So let’s fuck, Princess. Milk my cock. Let me put that baby into you.”

He can tell she’s ready to protest because she opens her mouth but she must think better of it. Instead, she nods as if she were in a trance and when he tugs on her hands, she follows him without uttering a single word. She takes two steps at the same time he takes one as he practically drags her into the bedroom.

He pushes her against the door and kisses her deeply. When they re-emerge, they are both panting for air, hot puffs of air fanning his neck as they try to regain some control over their breathing.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you, Clarke.”

Surprising him, she nods, her eyes so dark and piercing and dazed — a perfect image of her out of his wildest dreams.

He doesn’t even undress her completely, it feels like a waste of time right now; he’s too far gone for that already. So her blouse and bra remain, pants and panties dragged over her ass, shoved down to her knees. She is half-bent on the bed, holding herself on her elbows, and he’s pressing her down into his sheets with one hand cupping the back of her neck. His other hand is splayed flat on her back, holding her down, as he watches his cock disappear into her pussy repeatedly. It doesn’t take long until he’s fucking into her in earnest, both panting heavily.

Being in this upright position and the punishing rhythm he’s giving her is taxing. Soon, his thighs are aching from the exhaustion. She feels amazing around him but the standing position is not something he exercises a lot when it comes to sex; he’ll need to set up a new workout routine at the gym, just in case. 

She comes first, he makes sure of that, fingers expertly working her clit and pushing her over; he is only a few more pushes away. 

When he spills inside her, filling her with his cum completely, it’s explosive. He comes so hard, his knees are aching like never before, ready to give in and buckle under him, almost causing him to land on top of her with his full weight. By some miracle, he doesn’t. He finds some relief in bracing himself on his arm that shifted from her back to the bed; bearing most of his weight by pressing his forearm against the bed. It’s a rather intimate position. Their skin graze.

He reminds himself to let up on his grip on her neck when he feels empty and flaccid, feeling some of his load trickling out of her.

He only pulls out a little while later, savouring the feeling. Then, shifting away carefully from her bent body not wanting to jostle her or hurt her in any way. They both groan as his cock slips out, leaving her empty.

Her knees drop down onto the floor as she lets herself relax, face deliciously rosy from the exertion; her head turned to the side, lying on his sheets, as she moves to sit on her heels; taking several big gulps of air with closed eyes. She is a sight to behold. Her lips are curved upward into a blissed out smile. Her hair is a tangled mess; some of the curls are sticking to her temple, the rest is fanning out around her beautifully like rays of sunshine. She is the definition of thoroughly fucked, he smiles stupidly to himself as he watches her recover.

“Sorry,” he says, blushing. “I got a little carried away.” He clears his throat. “I, um — apologize, if that was too much.”

She opens her eyes, blinking a few times until her eyes focus, a wider smile tugging at her mouth. Her hands fist in the sheets as she groans and pushes herself up on her elbows and knees, attempting to hold herself somewhat upright, also lifting her head. She grins at him, voice deeper, breathier now than before. He likes it. 

“Don’t you worry about me, Bell. I’m not that easy to break.”

He ducks his head and scratches the back of his neck, before running a hand through his hair at the same spot. He reaches down and pulls on the waistband of his boxers and sweatpants until his cock is tucked away and he is covered back up decently.

It’s her voice that makes him lift his head and look at her again.

“So, um — I think we really did it this time. 

Well, either way, this was great.”

His smile is back, puffing out a laugh as he responds, “Yeah, for me, too. I’m glad... I - “his heart is in his throat. He is so close to saying the things on his mind. But he doesn’t. There’s time. He blows out some air he was holding. “Let’s get you some dinner.”

*

After the very late dinner, and after they are both showered and changed for bed, she climbs into his lap and fucks him again; riding him as if the world was ending. It’s so intense, he has to put a hand on her mouth and bite on her shoulder to muffle their cries, given it’s after midnight; at this hour, the walls don’t absorb the voice as much and he’s a bit self-conscious about the noise.

He’s on the edge of drifting asleep when his tired mind flashes him the images from earlier — Clarke on her knees at the side of his bed, eyes unfocused as she smiles wide at something in the close distance. He realizes _now_ what that small, dazed smile was about. She was eyeing his soft cock, very possibly still shiny from their combined juices.

(His heart soars.)

***

A day later, her carry-on — public enemy number one — is still parked against the wall and collecting dust, close to the entrance where she left it.

She arrived early tonight. He cooked, they ate together and he offered to clean after their dinner by himself. He is uncharacteristically at ease.

“Let me finish these dishes and I’m with you. Just ... make yourself comfortable, put on some music.” Then, changing his tone to suggestive and teasing, he flashes a smile. “Lose the shirt. Touch yourself if you need to get into the mood. You know the drill.“

“Well, technically -“

His stomach churns. No. She’s gonna tell him she took the test and she’s pregnant. The smile drops from his face, though he tries not to look too disappointed. 

Clarke looks sheepish. “My last fertile day was yesterday.”

He knew that. And yet, he still hoped.

“Oh. I see. Now what?”

“Now?” She half-shrugs. “We wait. And if it didn’t work out this time, I guess —“ she exhales sharply,” we have to decide... I either go back to the sperm bank and check on the donors, or —“

God. No.

He lets the wet washcloth hang on the handle of the oven and steps into the room. 

“Is that app 100% accurate?”

“I don’t know... um, guess not. But -“

“- So we keep trying for the next few days, and see then. To make sure.”

There’s a relieved look on her face. He exhales in relief. But again, maybe he’s only imagining things. 

***

A few days later, she arrives with three unopened boxes of pregnancy tests. She bought three different types, she reasons, _‘to be sure’._ They haven’t exactly agreed yet what happens next if it’s a negative.

She looks just as nervous as he feels, though probably for an entirely different reason. She might be with child and he is running out of time.

It’s not like he’s going to lose her as a friend, no. Never. He knows he won’t. But he needs a good opening to turn this thing between them from casual to permanent. As Miller would put it, _‘You got the girl to sleep with you, now get her to realize she’s in love’._

Clarke disappears to the bathroom for a few minutes, taking the tests with her.

The wait is unnerving. He paces in circles around the couch. He sits down; tapping his feet nervously against the carpet. He stands up. He paces again. 

When she returns, her hands are empty. So she either _knows_ or she hasn’t taken them yet; or she did take the tests but didn’t want to check the results yet.

He opens his mouth to ask but stops himself. She will tell him when she’s ready. 

Eventually, the silence weighs down on him and he’s the first to break the silence.

“Have you been feeling any different lately? 

“Not really. No, I don’t think so... Maybe a little, but it’s mostly... _because of the constant sex_ \- ,” she says, scrunching her brows together and letting her voice drop to barely audible before she continues.” It doesn’t matter. I feel good, thank you.”

She doesn’t sound that convincing to him and he doesn’t feel convinced. She’s holding something back — _‘Maybe she wants to have a break’_ his mind screams at him. Even so, better to know.

He swallows his nerves down, and wills himself to open his mouth, wills himself to ask and find out more. A hint. Something. Anything. 

“Hey, what is it?”

She sighs deeply, then looks him in the eye with a soft smile on her lips.

“I’m a little sore, is all. That’s not really a symptom of being knocked up, is it?” He feels his lips curve into a huge smile. “Oh - don’t look so smug.”

He? Smug? Maybe a little. 

He steps closer, cupping her hands between his big ones, thumb brushing against her knuckles. He is dropping his head a bit, whilst she is craning her neck to look at him.

“You know, I’ve heard hardly any conceptions happen on the first try.”

“Hm.”

“And, you know where I live. Obviously. You have a key, too, and you know that you can trust me.”

Clarke raises her eyebrows, lips parting slightly. Ten excruciatingly long heartbeats later she opens her mouth and starts talking. “So - what you’re saying is... you’d be willing to keep trying until I get knocked up. Or?”

He brushes his thumb against the back of her hand softly. Maybe he never stopped doing that. “Hm, I’m also saying when those pregnancy hormones kick in, you will need me around to help you out.”

She raises her chin, causing him to pull his head a little away. 

“And hold my hair when I throw up?”

“That too, but. How about... you know I’ve read a bit about pregnancy — went on a few forums online. And 9 out of 10 Moms say they were sexually frustrated for months. Always on edge. This one Mom complained she was humping her little son’s huge teddy bear because her husband was out of town; she was that desperate.” Clarke makes a face; scrunches her nose up. “I don’t want you to feel desperate. Ever. Not when you have me, Clarke.”

Bellamy is proud of using his words expertly in any situation — well — in any situation where he is not about to confess his feelings, romantically speaking. As love confessions go, this is a silly one. 

She’s fighting a smile as she swallows. “Pure logic. Love it.”

He cups her face and closes the distance between them.

*

In the morning, she is up before him, tracing patterns into his bare chest. He woke up to her soft fingers on him a few minutes ago, but let her believe he was still asleep for a while longer; basking in the sensation like a cat soaking in the sun. 

“Just to clarify. We’re _together_ together now, right?”

He opens one eye and squints at her.

“So much together that I have a drawer ready for you - if you want?”

It’s true. He even bought two rolls of wrapping paper he thought she’d like.

“Just one?”

He barely stifles a laugh.

“Sure, if you _are_ moving in, I’ll build you a fucking wardrobe, Clarke.”

There’s something glinting in her eyes he cannot put anywhere yet.

“A drawer would be nice, for a start.”

She draws her bottom lip between her teeth, and pushes herself on her elbows; the finger that was drawing patterns across his skin only faltering for a moment before her hand is back on him again. She is not looking at him; her eyes are following the zigzag way her finger trails. It tickles. “Bell, I want to be honest with you... I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to have a baby. _Maybe_ the timeline shifted a little _now_ that I have you, for real, but... It wasn’t just some elaborate plan to get you into bed with me.”

She finally lifts her gaze and looks at him and he smiles.

“No? You could’ve fooled me.”

She shakes her head. Observing his face carefully, as if her life depended on what comes next, she adds,” Are you okay with that?”

 _“Clarke._ Princess — I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ll fuck you with all my might,” he runs a hand over her naked body, down her back, spending some time at the swell of her ass, where he lets it settle. “Make love to you. Our baby. One day.” He shakes his head, groaning. “I could take you every day, I want you so much.”

She mirrors him and huffs in response. “For. So. Long. I was waiting for you to crack!”

He snaps his eyes to her in an instant.

“What?! I was waiting FOR YOU to crack!”

“You could have just said something. I hate you. You’re horrible.”

He lifts himself from the mattress, shifting his body and turning, effectively casting a shadow as he crawls over her, letting his body drop lower; smiling so hard it stretches his skin.

“I think you’re amazing, and I -“ he pauses, letting himself consider how to say what is on his mind. 

If only she’d let him.

“You’re unbelievable. That’s what you are,” she scoffs, “I was in physical pain, _Bellamy._ I wanted to give you a blow job so bad.” He blinks, losing it a little as a weak sound leaves him. 

It’s not long until something coy glints in her eyes and her features transform from distraught to affectionate then to seductive. “So that means... as your future roommate slash very real, very current and very eager girlfriend I can finally — FINALLY! — do as I please... oh, _Mister,_ I see lots of blow jobs in your future.”

His face is burning with the flames that are licking at him inside.

“Uhh- if that’s something you wanna do... yea ... we can do ... that... I’m not gonna stop you, babe —“ he gulps, because yes, he wants to scream _‘please do’_ or _‘please, suck my cock’_ but it also reminds him what he’s been dying to do. “But — there’s this thing I wanna do first.”

He nods to the side of the bed, where the pillows have been cast away in a pile. Now that they’ve consciously snuggled together for the night, the pillows were ditched to the side and out of the way. “Go grab that pillow for me, would you?”

She does as he asked, though she’s clearly on the verge of saying something as she passes the pillow over. “Bell, my fertile days are definitely over now. We don’t need any pillows.”

“Oh, babe. _Babe,_ that may be true,” he winks with a promise behind it, “but we can use that pillow for something else.”

His voice dropped low to what he recognizes as his seductive tone, laced thickly with lust. He feels great, which must show on his face; his smile has turned mischievous, more predatory. “How about you play with your tits for me?” 

Her hands move on their own volition, finding her soft flesh easily and she begins to tease and fondle herself, her eyelids growing heavy in no time from his words and her own touch; regardless, her gaze never truly leaves him. He lowers his head to her elevated hips where her pussy is waiting, still hidden between her closed thighs. He pulls at her knees, pulling them apart, uncovering her most intimate part for his hungry eyes. Her slit is glistening with want already, making his stupid heart beat a little faster and his eyes flare.

“I wanted to go down on you so bad. Taste you. Over and over, like -“

She shifts, spreading her thighs more open, offering him better access as she waits for his next move. He grins and presses a kiss against her inner thigh.

“Bell, _please,”_ she gasps, sounding desperate. That’s all the encouragement Bellamy needs.

“Relax. I got you.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**To Miller**

_MY GIRL is moving in. We talked. She wants to have MY babies, you were right._

  
  
  
  


**From Miller**

🍾🎉

  
  


...

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this last chapter belatedly, for which I am sorry. I didn't plan on holding this back for so long, considering the story was written. The little feedback on the second chapter discouraged me a lot (and pushed me into an ugly cycle, hence the delay) and made me dread posting this... If you care to let me know what you liked or disliked -- does it worth for me to get hyped by a story and keep writing/sharing? -- that would be great!
> 
> A huge thank you to everyone reading and enjoying; special shoutout to the amazing people who left those nice words, your words meant and mean a lot! <3
> 
> ***
> 
> Bonus:

**Author's Note:**

> thoughts?


End file.
